


The Term was “Functioning Drunk”

by yourmothersmeatloaf



Series: oceans [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Secrets, domestic abuse, no violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26659399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourmothersmeatloaf/pseuds/yourmothersmeatloaf
Summary: Roy does a yikes“A drinking man's someone who wants to forget he isn't still young and believing,”Tennessee Williams
Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Series: oceans [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1939753
Kudos: 9





	The Term was “Functioning Drunk”

Roy sat behind his desk, glaring down at the papers in front of him. The letters were swimming before his eyes in a dizzying array of nonsense. His fingers tapped harshly against the wood surface of his desk, seeming to be the only thing keeping him in the same realm as his subordinates.  
Havoc looked up and sighed exasperatedly at the irritating and relentless tapping. He shot a pained look at Hawkeye imploring her to cease it. He met his gaze then looked at Mustang, her face hiding the concern she felt.  
She stood and approached his desk. She remained there for a long moment before clearing her throat in an attempt to catch his attention. When this failed she opted for a more direct approach.  
“Colonel Mustang, Sir!” She shouted.  
He jumped and stared at her, eyes wide.  
“What?” He demanded. “I am clearly very busy with my paperwork!”  
She furrowed her brow at him, her concern finally peaking through in the slightest degree. It was very clearly the opposite.  
“Sir, you have been appearing very distracted. Is there anything we could assist you with?”  
He looked around the room where his subordinates looked on with varying degrees of troubled expressions. He sighed as he looked away, waving his hand in a dismissive fashion.  
“I’m fine, all of you. How about you focus more on your work than on me?” He stood. “I’ll be right back.”  
“Yes, sir. Do you need accompaniment?” Hawkeye asked.  
“No, that will be fine,” he made his way out of the office.  
Regardless of his request, Hawkeye kept him within eyesight for as long as possible. Something was clearly wrong with the Colonel and she wanted to help.  
Roy made his way to the restroom where he pulled out his flask, taking two large gulps from it. The alcohol burned his throat in the most familiar and welcoming way. His face still distorted, disregarding all the practice he’s had with it. It warmed his body in ways his flame alchemy never could dream of. He stared into the mirror while his vision distorted.   
He never quite recognized himself anymore, anyways.  
He exited the washroom, once again in a common space where many military personnel crisscrossed between each other. He took a moment to remember his body did in fact exist, regain his footing and begin walking again. He focused very intently on remembering he was a real person, in a real place, with real consequences and had to behave as such.  
This in mind, he took a moment to consider his breath. He stopped walking and searched all his pockets twice until he found his little tin of breath mints. He popped three in his mouth and started off towards the break room to get some coffee. Coffee hides the smell of his breath better than mints could any day of the week.  
As he was pouring his cup, his eyelids grew heavier. Lashes brushed his cheeks a couple times until his hand slipped, spilling burn inducing liquid onto his cup-holding-hand.  
“Shit,” he hissed quietly. At least he was awake again, he supposed. He took his cup, only two thirds of the way full, and immediately ran into someone.  
“Agh! What the fuck?” A very familiar voice shouted. Probably the one he wanted to hear the most and the least at that particular moment. “What the hells wrong with you, asshole?”  
“Fullmetal,” Mustang said, gazing down at Edward Elric, trying very hard to squint him into focus.  
Edwards eyes squinted back and before Mustang could avoid it, the shorter of the two moved in and smelled his breath.  
“Jesus! At work now? I didn’t want to say anything, I didn’t know if it was my place, but you have GOT to get your shit together,” Edward yelled in a hushed tone.  
Roy sighed, dejected, and met the golden eyes head-on.  
“You’re right, Fullmetal. It isn’t your place.” Mustang pushed past him, not daring to look back. He didn’t want to see whatever expression was apt to be on Edward’s face. Though, his heart hurt like he had.  
He made sure to drink what was left of his coffee before returning to his office. He noted all the eyes on him as he walked through their desks to get to his. Luckily for him his brush with Fullmetal had sobered him up some, or at least made him feel it. He sat heavily in his chair and looked up, every eye still on him.  
“Well? Break is over,” he snapped. “Back to work!”

-

He was back in his apartment. The evening quickly bled into night. He sat on his sofa, book in hand, pretending to read it. Soon this act frustrated him and he threw it harshly onto the carpet. He instead opted for his glass, nursing it warmly in his hands. The amber liquid circling within, ice largely melted, two white slivers quickly devoured by the warmth of the liquor. He noted the slightest of tremors in his hands, something else that served to frustrate him. Then, there was the clock.  
Why was that clock so loud. Announcing the passage of every second as though they each mattered individually. If his time studying alchemy- and what’s more, his time in the military has taught him anything, it’s that there’s very little stock in individuality.  
“All is one and one is all,” he muttered.  
He began tapping his fingers off his glass. His theory of individuality evaporated quickly as every small ring the glass made drove deeper into his soul.  
Then, the knock came. Tentative and reserved. Five short raps.  
At this time it could only be one person.  
He approached the door, slowly opening it.  
“Edward,” he slurred in a whisper.  
Ed looked up at him, appearing smaller than normal. Something struck Roy the wrong way. Something was wrong. Ed pushed by him, letting himself into the living room.  
Roy followed, immensely- indescribably happy to see the blond. He wrapped his arms around Ed slowly and deliberately, pressing him firmly into his chest. One hand held Ed’s head into his neck while the other held strong on the small of his back.  
Ed felt reluctant at first, but allowed himself to melt into the touch. He returned the embrace, one hand fisted up on Roy’s back while the other gripped his shoulder from behind.  
Roy almost whispered how he loved him, then he almost declared it and came very short from screaming it. Instead, he said nothing.  
That nothing hung in the air between them, his silence deafening.  
Then Ed pulled away. He took a few steps of distance and turned his back to Roy.  
“What is it?” Roy asked, uncomfortably.  
“You’re drunk.”  
“I am not,” he was indignant.   
“And you’re a lying bastard, now, too,” Ed snapped, turning back to face him. “How are you going to explain that slur away? Those shaking hands?”  
Roy closed the distance between them, placing his hands on Ed’s hips, resting his head on the shorter man’s shoulder.  
“You have to believe me, I’m fine,” it sounded like he was pleading. How many times has he lost this conversation before?  
“The thing is, I don’t. And I don’t want to get mad at you. I want you to get better. I care about you, asshole. But I know this isn’t my place. Is it? Just let me know and I’ll find my place and stay there,” the last sentence left Ed’s mouth coldly.  
“It is,” Roy heaved. “It is your place. Your place is here, in my home. In my arms. Here. I want you here.”  
“I want to be here. But I can’t be if you don’t try to get better.”  
“I’m fine!” As the word clattered into both their ears they both knew it was a lie.  
Golden eyes met slate grey. A furious fire under the golden hue met the lifeless defeat of a slate grey ocean.  
Roy refused to look into those eyes any longer, knowing the best way to put out fire was to pour water on it.   
Edward’s heart twanged painfully. Where did the life in those eyes go? Where did they go wrong?  
He felt his eyes prick with tears, and his throat constrict as it became heavier. A pit formed in his chest. He was no stranger to pain, though domestic pain was different from any other he’d experienced.  
Roy noticed Ed’s breathing become laboured and he quickly looked back, realizing that it was already raining in those eyes.   
“Ed, I-“ Roy stammered, “Okay. I admit. Perhaps I have become somewhat dependent.”  
“Uh, yeah, you think?” Ed yelled, putting much more space between them in a violent motion.  
“Yes,” Roy gritted out.  
“Is that what you actually think? Or are you going to go right back at it as soon as I leave?” Ed demanded.  
“It’s what I actually think,” Roy said through his teeth.  
He was becoming increasingly angry. Adrenaline shot through him as his body fell into fight or flight mode, anticipating a heavy argument.  
“I thought you didn’t want to get mad at me?” Roy almost mocked.  
“I DON’T YOU STUPID BASTARD!” Ed screamed. “You’re just too stupid not to fight with me!”  
“I’m stupid?” Roy laughed, his slur gone. “Look at where you stand! If you’re so unhappy why are you here? If I’m a no-good-lying-drunk, then why are you still here? That makes YOU stupid. Not me.”  
Roy slowly closed the space between them while he spoke. They stood toe to toe. Edward looked up at him, unable to speak. Unable to fathom the idea that Roy could speak to him that way. The tears fell freely from his eyes, though the shock he felt kept him from feeling.  
Edwards unresponsiveness allowed Roy to cool off enough to immediately regret his words and actions.  
“Ed,” Roy said. “Ed, I’m sorry.”  
He placed a hand gently on Edward’s cheek, trying to wipe his tears away. He couldn’t believe he just did that.  
“Roy, do not touch me,” Ed commanded.  
Roy’s hand remained where it was as he tried to convince Edward it was okay.  
“I said DON’T!” Edward yelled very clearly despite his tight throat.  
Roy withdrew his hand quickly and stepped back. His face maintained the same shocked and ashamed expression and his hands remained in the air.  
Edward stared him down, realizing he was near the far wall from the exit.  
“I want to leave,” Edward said.  
“Okay,” Roy said.  
Roy went to the door and opened it, as a yielding gesture. He then stepped away from the door.  
Edward slowly walked to the door, watching Roy all the way. He pulled the door behind him, stopping halfway through. He looked at Roy in the face again, then to the floor.  
“I really loved you, you know,” he said.  
His tone was strong, no regret. Just admission.   
Then he pulled the door fully shut. It clicked quietly behind him. Roy strained his ears to hear the footfalls in the hall before there was nothing but certain quietness.  
Except for that goddamn clock.  
He went to reach for his glass as he was overcome with sadness and guilt and anger and oh, god, memories. He urged himself to feel nothing but knew it’d be much easier with the help of his good, and maybe only, friend.  
As the rim of the glass grazed his lip, it felt hot. It felt like it burned him, like it was wrong, no, illegal to be partaking in it.  
Yes, he had a lot to prove if he was ever going to make it right. If there was anything he knew in that world it was that Edward Elric deserved everything. And even if Roy never won Ed back maybe it’d be something to know he learned.  
So, he sat there.  
And he listened to the clock tick away the seconds.  
Every single one of them.


End file.
